


a body screaming hell yes

by fletcherstringham



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Brotherhood/03 Mashup, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Post-Coital Cuddling, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletcherstringham/pseuds/fletcherstringham
Summary: Ling keeps Russell and Ed on their toes, all right. (Or: two alchemists and a prince walk into a room. The punchline is sex.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some impromptu Russell/Ed/Ling smut because, well, someone had to. Enjoy!

Russell’s lips graze his neck. It hardly counts as a kiss, contact this light, but Ed shudders anyway, purely because he wasn’t expecting it: Russell hasn’t been told to kiss him. If Ed didn’t know any better, he might think it was an accident—but, no, he can feel the ghost of a smirk against the skin of his throat, and he can’t even _react_ to it properly because unlike Russell, he lacks anything even resembling subtlety and would give them away. All he can do is shut his eyes, which hopefully communicates that Russell’s welcome, _encouraged_ , to keep at it. He tries not to squeak at the answering scrape of teeth.

What he wants, more than anything, is for Russell to change the angle of his thrusts. Just a little bit. Maybe half an inch over and Ed would see stars. But he’s at a total loss for how to tell him that when he’s not allowed to speak; tapping on his shoulder, tightening his legs around his waist, nothing’s _working_ , damn it. He’s left shivering on the edge of something great, which better not be fucking intentional on Russell’s part. If Ed can’t have any control here, neither can he. A tongue behind his ear, and Ed can’t take it—he’ll whisper, quiet as he can, and maybe Ling won’t hear from halfway across the room—

“Stop,” Ling calls out, sounding bored, and Ed muffles a curse. Above him, Russell goes still immediately, but he looks no less frustrated: his face is pinched and his arms are trembling where he’s holding himself up. Sweat glistens on his neck and chest, and Ed really, really wants to taste it. He hopes Ling isn’t going to tell him to pull out.

Lounging in a chair, Ling just watches the pair of them for a few moments, his expression impassive. Then, with a dancer’s grace, he gets up, retrieves the ruler at his feet, and saunters over to the bed. Ed doesn’t dare make eye contact, doesn’t even look at him, but he can see Ling in his peripheral vision running the narrow part of the ruler down Russell’s back. Russell’s eyelids flutter; his breath seems to shake on the way out. Then, without warning, there’s a sharp _thwack_ as Ling spanks him. Ed envies the fact that Russell doesn’t yelp—he doesn’t make a sound at all, just exhales sharply. At least he has the fucking decency to blush.

Ed doesn’t even get to savor Russell’s humiliation before he feels that same ruler travel down his own thigh, flush with Russell’s hip. The wood is rough against his skin; Ed squeezes his eyes shut, trying to brace himself for the blow, reminding himself he’s not going to cry out, not going to give either of them the satisfaction. He thinks he’s prepared, but when he feels the sting of the slap, his traitor voice rings out in a sharp wail. Goddamn. A peek at Ling through his eyelashes lets him know he’s smirking.

“Up,” Ling says suddenly, tapping Russell’s shoulder with the ruler. “Get off him.” No, _no_ —Ed can’t stifle a moan at the loss as Russell pulls out, backing up at Ling’s instruction until he’s kneeling maybe a foot and a half in front of Ed. Automatically, Ed tries to follow him, at least prop himself up, but Ling halts him with a lazy, “Stay, Edward.” He lies there, legs spread wide, feeling himself drip onto the sheets as he squirms under the scrutiny of two gazes, one dark, the other darker.

“Isn’t he something,” Ling murmurs, addressing Russell, and Russell’s hum of agreement sounds like a moan. The hand Ling reaches out is surprisingly gentle: it brushes Ed’s belly, teases its way down, and then two fingers slide between his lips to test his opening. He’s wet. Very. Ling takes his sweet time dragging his fingers back up, and he gives Ed’s clit a light tap on the way; Ed can barely swallow his cry. “Look,” Ling says softly, and Ed, not sure who he’s talking to, obeys just in case. Ling’s fingers glisten with Ed’s wetness: he observes them casually, a serene smile on his face, and then he laughs lightly and slips one into his mouth. It does more for Russell than for Ed—he groans, eyes glued to Ling, and curls his fingers in the sheets below him. Ling laughs again.

“What, want a taste?” he asks teasingly. Russell’s breathing gets quicker. When he nods, looking eager, Ling smiles and leans over the bed, holding out his hand. Russell immediately clasps it and makes short work of licking the fingers clean. _That_ gets Ed going; he starts panting and tries to close his thighs, desperate for some friction, some _relief_.

Of course, he can’t have _that_ much, can he. “Excuse you,” Ling tells him, patting the outside of his leg with the ruler until Ed opens them again, huffing his frustration. What’s the fucking _point_ , he wonders, of making him stay like this if no one’s going to fucking touch him? He could get himself off right now in about thirty seconds, tops. It pisses him off to think Ling enjoys making him wait, and it pisses him off even more to know, deep down, _he_ enjoys it just as much. If not more.

So he lies there, quiet and obedient, and waits for Ling to notice. When Russell finishes with Ling’s hand, Ling leans in closer to whisper something in his ear; whatever it is makes Russell’s eyes widen, color spreading down his neck. Ling draws back and gives him a kiss. Ed feels the tiniest flicker of jealousy that immediately disappears when Ling steps away from the bed, while Russell crawls forward and settles on his stomach between Ed’s legs. Ed gapes at him, not daring to hope for it, and then Russell licks a stripe up his opening, ending with a flick of his tongue at Ed’s clit. Ling chuckles at the strangled noise Ed makes in response.

Russell, fucking _Russell_ , pulls back for a second, looking smug as can be. Ed wants to be irritated, but then he pushes his stupid hair out of his face and really gets to work, licking and nuzzling into Ed like a starving man. Within seconds, Ed forgets what it’s even _like_ to be annoyed—he thrashes under the firm hold Russell has on his hips, rocking desperately against his mouth while he grips the sheets in his hands.

The biggest struggle is his voice; the first time he moans aloud, which doesn’t take particularly long, Ling puts his finger to his lips and gestures around with his other hand, a wordless indication that they have neighbors. Yeah, like _that’s_ the reason Ling wants him to be quiet. Like Ling isn’t just as happy to order him to scream for him. It’s all about control, for Ling; Ed wants to moan and wail and shriek under Russell’s ministrations, so Ling forces him to stay silent, just because _he can_. The second time a whine slips out of Ed, when Russell adds fingers to the mix, Ling says, in a voice that gives Ed chills, “I’ll tell him to stop if you can’t be quiet for me.”

No, no, _no_. “Sorry,” Ed chokes out, just as Russell curls his fingers inside him. _There’s_ the spot he didn’t hit earlier, and there are the stars, too; Ed whimpers through closed lips and shuts his eyes as tight as he can, struggling to remain in control. Not that Russell’s helping him out there. He starts pumping his fingers in quick, firm strokes, and presses the flat of his tongue against Ed’s clit before he closes his lips around it to suck, forceful little pulls that bring tears to the corners of Ed’s eyes. He can’t even be grateful, because he knows damn well what he’s doing. Russell _wants_ Ed to make noise; he _wants_ Ed to be punished, to have to wait even longer.

Well, fuck him too. The pleasure only intensifies as Russell pushes Ed closer to the brink, but Ed holds his tongue, even as Russell’s forces the tears in his eyes to dribble down his cheeks. He steals a peek through his eyelashes at Ling, draped across his chair like it’s a throne, watching Ed’s torment with hooded eyes and a lazy, catlike smile.

A sob slips through Ed’s clenched teeth, and Ed pleads wordlessly for Ling to see how well he’s obeying him, to see how _good_ he’s being, just for him. To take pity on him. After a particularly rough thrust from Russell, which makes Ed’s face crumple as he really starts to cry, Ling finally does.

“Oh, sweet love,” he murmurs, and he rises, returning to the bed to sketch his fingers down Ed’s chest and kiss the tears from his eyes. His hand finds a breast, and he squeezes, hard, and Ed can’t take it, can’t, can’t, can’t—

“Can I come?” he gasps, praying it wasn’t too loud, praying Ling will say yes. He needs it, needs it so fucking bad, needs it so bad he would scream if Ling would let him.

Ling chuckles, a soft thing contrasting sharply with the harsh pinching of his fingers at Ed’s nipple. After a moment, he takes his hand away and says sweetly, “Yes, you can come. Thank you so much for asking.”

“ _Oh, my fucking God_ ” tumbles out of Ed’s mouth, as the orgasm claims him within seconds. As the waves of pleasure crash over him one after the other, relentless, Ed sobbing softly as he wonders if they’ll ever stop, a small part of his mind thinks he has to give Russell credit where it’s due. He could be petty about Ling letting Ed come first, but instead he keeps on licking at Ed with fervor, until the contractions finally ease and Ed sinks into the mattress, limp and tired.

Russell kisses the insides of Ed’s thighs, one and then the other, and draws back.

Ling crosses to him the moment he does, ruler in hand. Before Russell can rise up to his knees, before Ed even has the strength to prop himself up on his elbows, Ling cracks the ruler across Russell’s ass, hard. Russell gasps, startled; the force of the blow makes him drop back to all fours, palms planted near Ed’s hips. Ed stares in confusion as Russell gives Ling an incredulous look, clearly wanting to know why he was struck.

That’s a mistake. Ed’s very glad it wasn’t his. Ling raises his eyebrows just as Russell hurriedly returns his gaze to Ed, but too late; Ling asks, in a voice so silky it’s damn near dangerous, “Are you glaring at me, love?”

“No,” Russell answers, and sucks in a breath as Ling smacks him again. “I’m sorry, Ling,” he whispers, shutting his eyes, flushing darkly. Ling gives him a third slap with the ruler, but he looks mollified.

“I didn’t tell you,” Ling says, with exaggerated patience, “to stop.”

“Stop …?” Russell repeats quietly, looking confused. Ed shares the sentiment. They figure it out at the same time: Russell’s eyes widen, and Ed’s stomach seems to disappear, heart leaping into his throat. “Oh,” Russell murmurs.

He winces as Ling touches him with the ruler again, but it’s a caress, not a smack; Ed watches Russell bite his lip because of it, the desire plain on his face. He meets Ed’s eyes, mutely asking for permission, and Ed nods before he understands what he’s agreeing to. The moment that he realizes he might need to prepare himself, Russell’s burying his face between his thighs again, taking Ed’s clit in his mouth and sucking with the same intensity as before.

Ed _screams_ , a tangle of syllables caught between _Russell_ and _fuck_. There’s no helping it, no fucking hope for keeping quiet now—it’s too much, entirely too much, the ruthless strokes of Russell’s tongue so intense they’re damn near _painful_. Fresh sobs escape him as Russell pushes in his fingers; any more and Ed would be begging him to stop, let him catch his breath, please, please—

Lost in his throes, he doesn’t notice Ling until there’s a firm hand on his face, gripping his chin tight and turning it to the side. He quails at the sternness in Ling’s expression; the ruler travels up Ed’s chest, light as a feather, and rests flat against his cheek. Ed whimpers. “You are making _entirely_ too much noise,” Ling murmurs, not releasing his hold on Ed’s chin. “I asked you to be quiet for me. You’re being very rude right now.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Ed gasps, as fresh tears blur his vision. He dimly registers how fucking _pathetic_ he must look and sound; he finds he doesn’t care as much as he should. “It just—f-feels so—so good, fuck—”

“You don’t want him to stop, do you?” Ling asks casually.

Just seconds ago, Ed wasn’t sure. Now he shakes his head with desperation. “N-no—please, don’t make him stop, Ling—”

“Then you’ll be good for me?” When Ed nods, Ling rewards him with a kiss, long and deep. His fingers find the same nipple he abused earlier; he pulls at it while his tongue steals into Ed’s mouth, while Russell’s assaults his clit deliciously. His ears are ringing and his chest is heaving, and within seconds, he feels himself on the very edge of climax again, sobbing with the intensity of it.

“I’m—I’m gonna come, Ling,” he gasps against Ling’s mouth, and then hurriedly amends his statement to, “C-can I please come—?”

“Again? That’s greedy,” Ling chides, but he’s smiling. He kisses him, gentle and light, while he pinches the nipple hard enough to bruise. “Yes, you can come, Ed. You can yell, too, if you want.”

Thank God, thank fucking God—a long, high wail tears itself from Ed’s mouth as he tumbles over the edge again, shaking with pleasure. Russell keeps at it, licking and thrusting his fingers until Ling, seeing Ed grimace, says gently, “Lovely work, Russell, but give it a rest for now.” The subtle emphasis on the last two words has Ed shuddering.

Russell sits up, and Ling immediately claims his mouth, eager to taste Ed on his lips. Just the kiss would do it for Ed—they’re fucking gorgeous, both of them, and all _his_ —but Russell’s also trembling from head to foot, clearly desperate for his own pleasure. Ed realizes he’s equally desperate for it. He wants to feel him come, all control lost; he wants to take his cock in his mouth and have his fingers tugging at his hair, rough with need _. Just say the word, Ling_ , he thinks, _just say the word—_

Instead, Ling murmurs against Russell’s lips, “Now, then.” He draws back, despite Russell’s low moan of protest, and taps his ruler against own his chin, mulling something over. After a moment, he says lightly, “Hands and knees, please, Ed, and we’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Ed trembles as he obeys, every muscle feeling like jelly. His long hair falls over his face like a curtain; his breasts, small as they are, sway slightly with his shaking. Ling takes a moment to enjoy this sight, and then, apparently on a whim, gives his ass a sharp _thwack_ with the ruler. Ed bucks forward with the force of it, choking on a whimper. Wetness trickles from him onto the bed below.

“Beautiful,” Russell whispers, sounding raspier than Ed’s ever heard him.

Ling hums his agreement. “Yes, he is.” There’s a moment’s pause, while Ed trembles on all fours and Russell breathes hard, and then Ling says, casual as ever, “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, love. Have at it.”

He laughs at Russell’s urgency, but Ed’s grateful for it. He groans when he feels Russell mount him, and again when he lines up his cock and pushes in, almost effortlessly. Russell’s mouth attaches to Ed’s neck as he does; Ed leans into the kiss, but within a second or two, it turns into a sharp gasp in Ed’s ear at the same time as a familiar smack of wood on skin.

“Come on, none of that lovey crap,” Ling says long-sufferingly. “If you want to fuck him, then fuck him.”

Russell doesn’t have to be told twice. He rolls his hips obediently, thrusting hard and fast, and then gives his loudest cry yet when Ling spanks him with the ruler again. The blow makes him tremble all over. He must be close, Ed thinks, and he anticipates it with eagerness, rocking back to meet his thrusts—but, after a few seconds, Russell suddenly says, “Wait, wait.”

“What are you doing?” Ling asks, voicing Ed’s thought as Russell climbs off him. All at once, Ling’s tone is different, like he’s stepped out of their little game to make sure nothing’s genuinely wrong.

Ed does the same, turning over and sitting up to look Russell in the face. Before he can form the words _are you okay_ , though, Russell gently pushes him onto his back. Ed blinks up at him, not understanding. Russell licks his lips—whether in awkwardness or the sight of Ed spread out in front of him, he’s not sure.

“I just—I want to look at you,” he murmurs, flushing red, like it’s too embarrassing to even utter. Maybe when they’re done, Ed will make fun of him for it. Call him a sap, play up his apparent irresistibility next time he wants something, whatever. Right now, though, he just leans up and slides his arms around Russell’s neck. He remembers Ling after a moment; he glances over, silently asking for permission, and Ling smiles, abandoning the ruler on the nightstand as he settles next to them on the bed. When he nods, Russell dives in for another kiss.

Ed gasps against his lips, bracing himself with a leg around his waist as Russell rocks into him. Ling isn’t idle: his hands are hungry as they explore, marking territory, and he presses kisses wherever he can reach, Ed’s arms and knees and face, Russell’s neck and back and shoulders. Before long, Russell’s panting, ducking his face into the crook of Ed’s neck. Ed, feeling him shake, rakes his fingernails down his back; that draws a moan.

“Ling,” he rasps, a tight, naked whisper, “Ling, can I—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ling says, before Russell can finish.

Russell makes a choking sound against Ed’s neck, fucking into him with desperation. As Ed watches, getting close again himself, Ling’s hand massages the length of Russell’s back, and then he _spanks_ him, a sharp slap that immediately becomes a caress. That’s it for Russell. He gasps as he comes, a high, keening sound that almost doesn’t seem to belong to him as he rolls his hips. Ed’s own orgasm is pretty subdued, more of an aftershock than anything, but he doesn’t mind; it’s Russell’s pleasure he’s concerned with now, petting his hair and murmuring gentle nothings in his ear as he sobs with relief into Ed’s shoulder. Ling’s there through it all, full of praise for them both— _sweet loves, perfect, beautiful boys, thank you so much for this_ —and as Russell finally grows still, he slides out of bed and leaves the room for a moment. Ed kisses Russell’s neck, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

“You okay?” he mumbles against the hollow of his throat, once Russell seems to get his breath back. He loses it immediately by laughing.

“Please. I’m fine,” he says. When he smiles, eyes bright, Ed kind of wants to drown in him.

Ling comes back then, bearing a damp washcloth. There’s nothing remotely stern or domineering about him now: it’s like a shade has been drawn. He makes slow work of separating them and helping them clean up, distracting himself by placing kisses here and there. He keeps up a constant murmur the whole time: “You were wonderful, both of you,” he says endearingly, his whole face shining with affection, “everything I love, everything I want, my dear hearts.” Finally, Russell seizes one hand, Ed seizes the other, and they yank him down between them to kiss the hell out of him.

Equally perceptive, Russell and Ed get the same idea at the same time, and their hands collide ungracefully between Ling’s thighs. Ling tries to bat them away. “Honestly, don’t worry about it—relax, I’ll take care of it later, promise—” In a rare display of teamwork, Ed claims Ling’s mouth to shut him up, and Russell, smirking, grips Ling’s hard, leaking cock in his hand, drawing a gasp. They even take turns: between Ed’s fast, hard strokes and Russell’s careful, thorough ones, Ling comes in about a minute, bucking his hips as he chokes on their names.

Then, once they’re all sleepy and satisfied, they curl up together. It takes some rearranging: Russell wants to be in the middle, unexpectedly the hungriest for affection, and then Ling has an elbow in his ribs, and Ed accidentally-on-purpose presses his automail foot into Russell’s leg a few times. They finally settle. Ed rests his cheek between Russell’s shoulders; he feels Ling’s hand under his fingers and he squeezes, tight, earning a chuckle in response. Everything feels peaceful and right.

Except.

Two stomachs rumble, one after the other.

“I don’t know about you two,” Ling says, grinning sheepishly, “but I really need to eat.”

“Me, too,” Ed says.

“You _guys_ ,” Russell moans, and buries his head under the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](transfletcher.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
